The Quest
by SunnyBunny99
Summary: The year is 1598 in Europe. Hermione Granger is a humble young woman, but the locals are suspicious and frightened of the magic she is struggling to hide. Fearing for their daughter’s life, her parents arrange a hasty union to the fearsome and reclusive knight Severus Snape. He is the only one who can protect her, but nothing is ever as it seems.
1. chapter 1

The Quest

A Severus Snape x Hermione GrangerFanfiction

A/N: Hello, everyone! I know it's been a while, and I apologize. But I found some inspiration to write again, and so here is the first chapter of a new tale. Please note two things: Hermione is initially a bit more arcane in this story than in the books, more instinctive and less intellectual. That is only fair due to the setting, but it will change. The second thing that will change is the rating—it may take a while, but yes, there will be smut. Just wanted to throw that in there so you all know what you're getting into; I'll give fair warning, though, so you can just skip it if that's not your cup of tea.

Anyhow, hold onto your horses and here we go! A new adventure awaits!

Please remember to favorite, follow and review! It's my bread and butter!

Ever Yours,

SunnyBunny99

Chapter I

Curtains of fog crouched low over the tiny village, thick and sibilant in the ominous quiet. The hazy, dark shapes of people were visible only by the yellow lights of torches bobbing through the murk; an occasional hushed shout was audible as they called each other for help. But it was futile; there were more lying on the cold ground than there were standing.

In the center of the village, a lone figure on horseback watched the panicked villagers scurrying to and fro in silence. Puffs of chilled breath wafted out from the slits in his helmet and he shifted slightly in the saddle with a squeak of leather and jangle of brass, but he made no move to aid anyone—not even as he saw a couple sobbing, dragging their wounded son from the splintered, smoldering wreckage of their home.

Thunderous hoofbeats sounded, getting closer by the moment. Several villagers, now paranoid and fearing it might be the enemy returned to finish them all off, cried out and ran for cover. But the lone knight remained unmoved as a troupe of similarly armored men trotted up to join him.

"Not in the mood to help, hmm, Severus?" one of them asked in a slightly derisive tone.

A growl rattled from beneath Severus' frost-laced helm, so low and foreboding it made the other man's horse whinny nervously.

"You would do well to watch the manner in which you address me, Kingsley," Severus said. "In case Dumbledore's message failed to penetrate your thick skull, allow me to remind you that he assigned me as the leader of this quest—not you."

"And a fine job you're doing of it too, sitting on your high horse and looking on at the suffering of these poor Muggle peasants!" hissed Kingsley angrily.

Severus turned in his saddle—"Tell me then, what can I do? The Dark Lord has already razed this place and killed most of its inhabitants; we have no mediwitch or healer..." He trailed off and turned back to the depressing scene. When he next spoke, his tone was weary. "But if you must, take Nymphadora and see what you can do. I had intended to scope the place out first and ensure that none of the Dark Lord's followers had lingered to ambush us."

"Oh. I see." Kingsley sounded slightly abashed. "Well...is it all clear?"

"If it had not been, you would likely be dead by now," Severus replied wryly. He sighed and gestured dismissively. "Go on, then. Keep your wits about you and your wands ready; swords should be first defense, but it is always wise to prepare for the worst."

Wordlessly Kingsley waved to one of the others, and they dismounted and strode into the foggy darkness together. The leader watched them go and then turned to a knight behind him. "Alastor...ride onward a few leagues and check for a trail. Report anything unusual to me."

"On it," said the knight named Alastor gruffly as he nudged his horse's flanks and cantered away.

Severus Snape flipped up the visor of his helmet and let his glittering dark eyes soak in the horrible scenes of death and destruction laid out before him. He knew that the next town would look exactly like this one, as would the one after that, and so on and so on. But he had been given a mission, and he would not rest until the Dark Lord Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters had met their maker.

But for now, he would have to satisfy his restlessness by occupying his mind elsewhere.

He turned to two more troupe members. "I need a pair of swift riders."

Hermione Granger saw the dust trails before the heard the hooves. Fear bubbled up in her breast and she ran to the woodshed, gripping her skirts high out of the path of her feet, even as her mother and father burst past her in the opposite direction—her father was holding an axe.

Just as she had rehearsed, the young woman dove behind a stack of kindling and quickly scraped hay over her body, burrowing under and shivering with mingled fear and cold. Her blood beat in her ears as she waited for ten seconds...then thirty...then sixty...then ninety...

The shed door groaned open again and Hermione tensed. In the chilled dark her slim fingers sought the length of wood she kept tucked up her left sleeve—only for emergencies, her parents had constantly reminded—and she readied herself to spring up and blast the intruder.

Heavy, slow footfalls drew nearer. "...Hermione?" came a hushed male voice. "Are you in here?"

Relief flooded her body to hear that all too familiar voice, and she scrambled up with a shaky sigh. "Ronald Weasley! You frightened the daylights out of me...I thought you were a Death Eater!"

The freckle-spattered face of the tall, lanky ginger-haired boy before her cracked into a wide grin. "I think a Death Eater might be a bit more stealthy, don't you?" Reaching out, he brushed a few bits of hay from Hermione's wild mane of unruly curls. "You've got a fine hiding spot, though. No proper high-class Death Eater would be caught in a dirty old place like this."

Hermione frowned. "Are you insulting my home?"

"No, no! I was just saying—"

"I know," laughed the young woman. "Anyhow, who was it? Riding in, I mean."

"Oh, that's what I came to find you for!" Ron exclaimed. "It was two knights from the Order!"

Hermione gasped aloud, her eyes flying wide. "What? Really? The Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes, Lord Dumbledore's men! They're legendary warriors, you know!"

"Who doesn't know?" she retorted, then pushed past him with her heartbeat notching up in excitement. "Come on, let's go see! Wonder what they're here for...?"

"Dunno, but I heard a commotion as they rode in," Ron huffed, keeping step beside her. "They were shouting something, both of them."

The town square was already packed with anxious and excited onlookers as the pair of young people approached, but they managed to squirm and shoulder their way to the front. The two knights had dismounted and were talking to the town elders; Ron jabbed Hermione in the shoulder and pointed at the saddle of the nearest horse.

An eight-foot-long pike was buckled into it, sticking straight up into the heavy whitish sky above. But on that pike hung a banner flag, and its crest perfectly fit the descriptions which Hermione had only heard in tales: a huge golden pheonix with sweeping wings ascending from a tongue of flame on a deep burgundy field.

"It really is them," Hermione breathed. A pang of worry suddenly struck and she bit her lip, turning to look at her childhood friend. "But if they're here, that means it must be bad; they only fight directly with You-Know-Who and his army."

The cluster of elders and knights dispersed then, and the taller of the two newcomers lifted a gauntleted hand. The buzzing crowd immediately fell silent. Ron and Hermione looked on with baited breath as he spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you surely know the reason for our coming. We have been sent from the Order of the Pheonix to warn you that The Dark Lord and his wicked minions are on their way here, only two days' ride Eastward. No doubt you have heard of his thirst for dominance of the nonmagical world and the extermination of all those in it...we in the Order seek to stop him. However, as none of you possess magic, we beg you to take up your belongings and flee as quickly as you can."

"But where?" someone cried.

"Out of Muggle—nonmagical—towns," the knight replied. "But do not fear for this place. We are simply forerunners; the rest of the Order will arrive late tonight and set up a defensive position to blockade The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters when they get here. Providing all goes well, you will be able to return when this is over."

"Will Lord Dumbledore be coming?" someone demanded from the crowd. An excited rustled stirred them all at the mention of the powerful wizard's name.

But to their dismay, the knight shook his head. "Lord Dumbledore is occupied with arranging our more delicate undercover operations; he leaves the frontal battles to us."

"Who leads you, then?"

"Master Severus Snape," came the reply, and this time the ripple of noise was not a good one.

"What?!" Ron bleated indignantly. "You don't mean that manky old turncoat...?"

Apparently most others felt similarly: "He was one of the enemies before this war—!"

"He can't be trusted!"

"I've heard he kills children...!"

"...cruel and vicious..."

"Enough!" thundered the knight, again waving for silence. "Lord Dumbledore has entrusted Master Snape with this mission, and so we are bound to follow and have faith in him. If you wish to leave, we encourage you to do so—there should be no more bloodshed then is absolutely necessary, and none at all from innocents. You are dismissed to go about your business, but keep in mind that the Order members arriving tonight will need places to stay, so kindly keep your homes unlocked if or when you leave. I can promise you that we are not thieves."

Grumbling and muttering, the throng of townspeople dispersed. Hermione caught sight of her mother and father and hurried over to them with Ron at her heels. "Mama, Papa," she greeted them breathlessly, "What are we going to do? Where will we go?"

The senior Grangers exchanged a look that made their daughter uneasy. "Ronald, dear," piped up Mrs. Granger gently, "I think you should go find your family, I'm sure they're looking for you."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, right. See you around, then, 'Mione," muttered Ron, blushing before he patted Hermione lightly on the shoulder in goodbye and vanished into the mass of bodies.

Hermione whirled on her parents. "What is this all about?" she demanded.

"Hermione, love," soothed her mother, "settle down. Your father and I have been talking, and we think that perhaps...well, perhaps staying with us isn't in your best interests."

Their daughter's jaw dropped—"What?"

Her father drew close and spoke in a hushed voice. "Your magic, Hermione. We all know it's getting stronger, more difficult to control and hide. With this war, people like us—non-magic folk—don't trust Wizarding types quite so much."

"Some people have been whispering," her mother added. "Catching on. They suspect you as a witch, and you know how those trials in Scotland went just a few weeks ago..."

Hermione shuddered—she did indeed know; the accused witches had been burned at the stake without so much as a fair trial. "...this anti-magic epidemic is spreading," her father was saying, "and we want you to be safe." He took a deep breath. "So...we arranged for you to stay with the Order."

"What? With a bunch of brainless ragamuffin men in metal skirts?" Hermione exclaimed scornfully, shocked. "You claim you want to keep me safe and yet you would have me on the front lines of the upcoming battle!"

Her father cut in. "We've arranged for you to be under the care of Master Snape; he is their leader and the strongest out of all of them—he will keep you out of harm's way."

The young witch blanched. "Snape?! He's horrible! He was a Death Eater once—"

"—he gave up that life to join the Order—"

"—he's cold and cruel—"

"—he is a strict leader, but you need a good firm hand—"

"—and he murders children!"

"Oh really, Hermione!" Her mother scoffed. "Come off it. You haven't met the man! For all you know he could be as much a demon as Saint Nicholas."

"I'd happily take my chances with Saint Nicholas," Hermione muttered. She looked back up at her parents, her amber colored irises wide and pleading. "Mama...Papa...please, reconsider! I won't touch the wand, I swear—"

Her mother smiled sadly. "It isn't just the wand and you know it, dear. You can do magic without the help of a wand, and I think that became obvious when you lit the poor Weasley family's house on fire the day you argued with Ronald."

The girl flushed pink. "That was—that was...different," she finished lamely.

"I hear the Order has a quite effective method of sending written messages by owl," her father said. "We can write to each other."

"I don't want a bloody owl, I want you!" Hermione burst, now on the verge of tears. "And I don't want to be dragged around by a band of bastard Neanderthals who don't know anything other than violence! I'm no safer with them than I would be doing magic in front of the whole town!"

"Hermione, you're being childish," said her father sternly. "Master Snape has promised to protect you with his life, and if Lord Dumbledore trusts him, so do we."

The pair of elder Grangers spoke words of surety and comfort to their daughter as she pleaded and argued. But eventually the sun began to dim, the already cold temperatures dropping to such that fat flakes of snow began to float down from the heavy clouds. The trio noticed the change and Hermione's parents urged her to join them inside the house, but she pulled away and ran to her favorite hideaway—the bell tower.

The vantage point from the tower was the best, giving a view of the road leading into town as well as the surrounding valley. If anyone were coming, the occupant of the tower would know first. Hermione tugged her thin shawl closer around her shivering frame, but the weather was now the very least of her concerns.

Tonight, the Order member had said. The rest would be here by nightfall...and that included Master Severus Snape.

As for Hermione, she too had heard a good share of the legends surrounding him. Phineas, the old storyteller, insisted that Snape was the son of a wild panther and a demon-possessed prostitute. It had been said that he was once insulted in a tavern and snatched the other man's bottle up, broke it and stabbed him in the throat with shards of broken glass til he had suffocated in his own blood. There was no limit to the savagery of Death Eaters, and as far as Hermione was concerned, they didn't change.

And here she was, about to be handed over to this man—this monster—like some witless child bride!

Golden-red rays of the setting sun washed over Hermione's face, making the falling snowflakes glow and giving a beautifully eerie look to the scene. Gazing down, she saw the knight's horse with the pike in its saddle hitched up to a post—the standard was flapping in the breeze, its deep burgundy now turned into a rich crimson hue and the gold of the crest itself practically glowing in the dusk.

The whole town was strangely quiet save for the whistling wind. It was as if no one bothered to come outside anymore because they knew there was no point anymore. That, and everyone was most likely busy packing up all their belongings.

Tatta-lot, Tatta-lot...

Hermione dried her cheeks of the silent tears she didn't know she had been shedding and focused on the road leading into town. She knew what galloping horses sounded like, and what was floating in on the evening breeze sounded like a whole lot of them. Her eyes focusing hard on the ridge of that path, her heart skipped a beat as multiples of that familiar standard appeared first, followed by its bearers. They came charging down the road, trailing an impressive cloud of dust, all silver armor aglow in the wash of the dying sun.

Except, that is, for the figure at the lead, who was encased in a suit of burnished black from helm to boot...she had heard of only one knight who wore black armor.

And so, with a mighty clopping of hooves and a rush of cold, snowy wind, the Order of the Pheonix arrived in Hermione Granger's town...and thus began the journey that would change her life forever.


	2. Chapter 2: Healer

A/N: A millions thanks, hugs and kisses to those who followed, favorited and reviewed! You make my writing better and keep me inspired! Please keep it coming!

Ever Yours,

SunnyBunny99

Chapter II

Hermione found herself rooted to the spot as the warriors began to dismount and unpack in the square below, talking in low voices and looking around even as the tavern door opened and the two messengers emerged. The black-armored figure—clearly Severus Snape—strode over to meet them, his thick gray woolen cloak with dark fur trim brushing the cobblestones. They convened for a few moments, then one of them suddenly turned and pointed up to the bell tower, directly at a stunned Hermione. She stumbled backwards, hoping to be out of their range of sight. Her heart pounded madly in her chest, and the shivering of earlier had returned as full-on shakes. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed to every deity she knew of that the knights wouldn't try anything—

"Hermione Granger!"

The named girl gasped and jumped as the call rang out below her. She recognized the voice of the taller messenger knight—he was alright, she supposed—and crept back to the edge of the bell tower railing to peer down at the group.

"S-sir?"

The knight was craning to look up at her, his silver armor gleaming and red cloak rippling. "Come down here, if you please—Master Snape would like a word with you."

Oh, shite. The young woman felt sweat on her palms despite the frigid temperatures, but all of a sudden some irritation welled to the forefront and she shouted back, "Tell your Master that I am not a dog or an owl to be called at will! If he desires an audience with me, he will come up here and have it." Somehow she managed to keep a note of confidence in her tone even though waves of terror wracked her body.

The knight spluttered wordlessly for a good moment, then huffed a breath. "Milady, please, I will not jest with you. Master Snape is not a patient man to be argued with, nor is he fond of foolishness. I implore you to come down and meet with him, else he will grow angry."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and spat back, "Let him grow angry, then; it will be you at the brunt of it, where I am safe up here! I say again, if your Master wishes to speak with me, he will acknowledge my comfort by coming up here."

The knight let his plated shoulders droop and sighed dismally before trudging over to Snape, who was busy unbuckling his saddlebags. The black-armored knight turned, looked up at Hermione in the tower and then back at his messenger, who conveyed the argument. Hermione swore she saw Snape's entire figure tense in fury before he roughly shoved the smaller man aside and headed for the bell tower in a furiously brisk clip.

BAMBAMBAMBAMABAMBAMBAM! The heavy slam of every steel-covered footstep shook the wooden-framed tower as the angry knight jogged up the steps; Hermione very quickly found herself regretting her impertinent attitude. She drew back, away from the stairs, her lower back hitting one of the support beams as a massive dark figure engulfed the landing and paused for a heartbeat before crossing the space between them in two strides. Hermione yelped fearfully as one gauntlet lashed out and grabbed a tight fistful of her blouse, dragging her in so she was crushed against his cold, hard black breastplate.

"Listen closely, you insolent little whelp," snarled Severus Snape, his breath coming in hisses of steam from the slits of his closed visor. His voice was the deepest Hermione had ever heard, much akin to the rich rumble of a summer thunderstorm. Now, though, it was rough and tight with anger, and the young woman's pulse thudded rapidly as he gave her a slight shake.

"If I wanted to come and go at the every whim of an airheaded little girl, I would have been born as a dog. But I'm not, am I? No indeed—I am a knight of the Order of the Phoenix, Lord Dumbledore's right-hand man, and when you disobey me you also disobey him.

"Your mother and father came to me—me—pleading for you, begging, sobbing for my kindness to take you under my wing and keep you safe, to train you up in the ways of wizardkin, and the first repayment I receive is a public humiliation in front of my men!"

At this he shook her again, her messy spiral curls swaying at the movement. "Please, sir," gasped Hermione, her small hands scrabbling vainly at his larger, steel-covered gloves. "Please forgive me; I meant no insolence—"

"Oh, is that so?" Snape gave a scoff of wry laughter. "You have an odd way of showing it, to be sure."

"Please," Hermione begged again, her own voice small and strained, "release me...I cannot breathe..."

The dark helmet swiveled down to see where he was gripping her collar, and as he realized that he had lifted her nearly off her feet he let go and stepped back a pace.

It seemed to have taken the white-hot edge off of his temper, for he folded his arms across his chest and took up a solid stance as Hermione regained her breath and just a sliver of her dignity. "Again...I apologize," she panted, looking sheepishly up into that expressionless helmet-covered face. "I may have...err...overestimated myself."

"To an extreme," Snape hissed in reply, his tone now acrid with scorn. "Before anything else, right now, you will promise never to make such a show of arrogant buffoonery again. I have neither the time nor patience for it. Is that understood?"

"Yes," said the young woman, and she meant it.

"Good." He reached up, his gloved fingers beginning to work on the small buckle which kept his helm fastened. After a few long moments of fumbling it came undone and he lifted the helmet off to tuck it under one arm. For the first time his face was revealed—long and pallid, with a thin, scowling mouth, jutting Roman nose and the darkest eyes Hermione had ever seen. One black eyebrow quirked upward as he noted her reaction, and he tugged the chain mail covering away from his skull to reveal shoulder-length hair as inky as his eyes, held back in a loose tail with a leather strip.

He wasn't handsome, Hermione thought, but rather...arresting.

"Your hair—" she began.

"I keep it clean with magic," he finished, anticipating the question.

Hermione blanched, then flushed, "So it's true! Order knights do have magic like Lord Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore could hardly send out a bunch of Muggles to fight the most powerful evil spellcaster of the century, do you think?" Snape snorted. "Of course we have magic. And so do you. But more on that later," he interjected quickly, seeing her lips part for a question. "Now, you must direct me to your parents' house. The others will stay in the tavern."

"I hardly think—" Hermione began, her stubbornness rising unbidden once more.

Snape's bottomless black eyes flashed with a wicked spark and the corner of his lip curled up. "Your job is not to think, girl—you hear and obey!" he growled, seeming to grow several inches in another burst of anger. "Take me to your home now and I won't out you as a witch to be burnt at the stake!"

That got her attention. "Follow me." Brushing past him—being careful not to make contact—she headed down the way she had come and heard him clanking and thumping down close behind. Across the square and down two side streets, she stopped at the door; casting a glance at Snape, she saw that he was regarding the plain thatch-roofed house with an expression of disdain. Her anger mounted again, but she held her tongue for fear of his own temper and merely turned her attention to knock on the door.

"Coming," she heard her mother call, and a few moments later it swung inward to reveal the older woman. Her eyes fell first on her daughter and a beatific smile lit her face, but as her pupils flicked up to the stern features of the black-clad warrior her mouth sagged and her rosy cheeks paled—clearly he was not the sweet, dashing hero she had expected.

"Madam Granger?" Snape asked in a low monotone.

"Y-yes, sir," Hermione's mother stammered, stepping aside. "Please do come in."

Hermione was buffeted as the man shouldered heedlessly past her and into the small, low-roofed home. Forcibly swallowing her instinctive anger, she mutely followed and let her mother shut the door behind them before addressing Snape, "Can we fetch you anything, sir?"

Flinty black eyes fixed on her. "A drink would be fitting, yes. Something warm, if you please." He shifted his shoulders as if to shake off the chill, the plates of his armor scraping together.

Hermione's mother turned to her. "Hermione, take my money purse and fetch Master Snape a hot toddy from the tavern."

"Yes, Mum." Hermione did as asked, snatching up the worn leather bag and heading back out into the snowy streets. She suspected that the adults simply wanted her gone for a bit as to discuss their backhanded little deal with her fate. But why should she call them adults? She was six months into eighteen years, long since past the traditional age of adulthood for the times. Hell, most of her female peers already had a few children by now. Then again, most of them had also died in childbirth.

"Evening, Hermione!" Madam Rosmerta greeted her cheerfully as she pushed into the tavern. "What'll it be, a warm butterbeer?"

"Not today," answered the young woman sullenly. "Master Snape wants a hot toddy."

The barkeep started, her mood quickly sobering. "Oh. Alright, then. Coming right up." She hustled away behind the counter to fix the drink as Hermione took a look around.

It was about as occupied as usual for a weekday, but not with the usual customers. Even the town drunk was gone, and in the rickety stools sat a score or so of armored knights. They had removed their helmets and now sat chatting amiably. One of them, a frighteningly grizzled-looking older veteran with multiple nasty facial scars and a bright blue glass eye strapped to his skull in place of the missing real one, noticed her. "Well, if it isn't Snape's little tripe. Come to join the party, have you?"

"Mad-Eye, shut your mouth before it gets you into trouble you can't fight your way out of," snapped another, a large, powerfully built man with mahogany skin and a rich lilting accent. Having put the grumbling elder in his place, he focused on Hermione. "Ignore him; he's just grouchy because he can't get a woman to save his life."

The entire party save for Mad-Eye burst into laughter, and even Hermione couldn't hold back her grin. Someone slid off a stool and stepped forwards; with a shock Hermione saw that it was a bright-eyed woman who didn't look too much older than she. The most startling thing about her, however, was her head of short and fluffy sky-blue hair.

The lady knight marched confidently over to Hermione and smiled, clapping a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Sorry if they come off a little rough; I promise it's not as bad as it looks," she said with a wink. "Mad-Eye obviously did his introduction," she said scornfully, glaring at the man, "but I'll introduce the rest of us who are decent human beings. That's Kingsley," she said, and the strong African man who had defended Hermione dipped his head respectfully. "and Remus, my husband—" a slender, attractive, sandy-haired man with slashes across his face gave a modest smile— "Sirius," a man with shaggy dark waves of hair and kind brown eyes waved, "Hestia Jones," nodding at a pink-cheeked lady with a tight bun of black hair, while a square-jawed man with thick hair the color of straw was introduced as Sturgis Podmore. "And my full name is Nymphadora, but you can call me Tonks," the blue-haired woman finished lightly.

"Pleasure to meet you all," said Hermione earnestly, and she found that suddenly the Order of the Phoenix didn't seem so daunting.

Madam Rosmerta broke the silence—"Here's that toddy, dear."

Hermione turned and dropped her payment onto the counter, then took up the steaming mug with both hands. She was about to leave when Tonks spoke up: "Hermione." The young woman stopped to look back, and the warrior said kindly, "I know Snape puts up a nasty front. But he's more like a big cat, really—he doesn't trust easily at first, but the more you get to know him the more he warms up. Everything is on his terms. Just keep a civil tongue and he won't bite."

Hermione smiled thinly. "Thank you, Lady Tonks. I'll keep that in mind."

The blue-haired fighter brayed with laughter—"Lady Tonks? Ha, I never! No no, darling; just Tonks. It's what I prefer."

"Very good, then, Tonks it is," agreed Hermione.

"I won't hold you any longer; go and give Snape what-for, will you?"

"Shove his beaky nose up his skinny arse!" chimed Sirius, and Kingsley reached over to slap him upside the head so hard his neck cracked. "Ow! Didn't mean it," Sirius grumbled, rubbing the spot.

Hermione took her leave of the tavern thinking that perhaps not all of the Order knights appreciated Lord Dumbledore's choice of campaign leadership either. When she arrived back home and knocked, her father opened the door and she stepped through. No sooner had both feet crossed the threshold than the mug was snatched from her hands. Snape lifted it to his lips and tilted his head back, taking a long pull and then recovering with a heavy sigh.

"Tell Rosmerta I appreciate it; she makes the best toddy I've had," he rumbled, setting the mug down on the table with a clunk. His eyes held Hermione's wide amber ones. "Did you meet my entourage?"

"I did," she answered. "I like them—well, most of them."

"Let me guess, Mad-Eye said something foolish," Snape drawled. Hermione shrugged, and he snorted. "I'll take that as a yes...usually his words are nothing but hot air, unless it's a battle situation. Then, he's the first and best to ask for advice. Brilliant tactician and fierce fighter."

Hermione was slightly rattled—she hadn't expected this stenotarian warrior to compliment anyone. Perhaps Tonks' words rang truer than she had given them credit for. But the moment was over as soon as it had happened; Snape thumped a fist on the table and declared, "The day grows late. You should all retire to bed."

"And where would you like to sleep, sir?" Hermione's mother asked with a voice dripping in sickly sweet politeness.

As if seeing through her facade, the knight scowled deeply. "Your daughter can lay me a pallet on the floor here," he said stiffly.

"And your armor; you must need someone to help you—"

"I can remove it myself," he interrupted roughly. "You and your husband have a long journey ahead; I suggest you rest and depart early, before dawn."

Hermione's mother accepted this advice with a bowed head and scurried into the adjoining room with her husband close behind. Snape waited until they had pulled the curtain of the room that separated them before looking at the young woman by his side.

"I would...appreciate...a pallet," he stated flatly.

I would appreciate it if you would go and die, Hermione thought hatefully. Absurdly, as if he had heard her thoughts, something flamed deep in Snape's inky eyes and his harsh features hardened even further. "Don't make me wait," he snarled, then turned his back to her and pulled off his gauntlets to toss them alongside his helmet.

Resentment smoldering in her heart and mind, Hermione went to gather up all the blankets and straw-stuffed padding she could find. By the time she got back with her arms piled with items, Snape had stripped away half his suit of armor and was busily working at his greaves. From what she had heard, full armor was the most difficult thing to get in and out of, and yet this man was able to do so in less than ten minutes...like magic.

Huh. Magic. What a cheat.

Hermione huffed and dropped the pallet unceremoniously onto the hard-packed dirt floor. "Here."

Snape hardly glanced over. He had taken the leather strip out of his hair, letting it fall loose in a thick, oily black curtain over his face. "Indeed. Now go to sleep; I expect you up at cock-crow tomorrow morning, understood?"

The girl gritted her teeth. "Yes."

As she stormed into the next room and burrowed under her own blankets for quite possibly the last time, Hermione stewed over the eventful day. All this had changed in the course of one day...how much else would her world alter in the time to come?

Just as she was about to drift off, the realization hit her that Snape had never met Madam Rosmerta...so how would he know her name?

Oh well. She would figure it all out eventually.

With a slight whimper, Hermione slipped into a hazy dreamland of talking serpents and giants clad in shining armor, unknowing of what the next day might bring.


	3. Chapter 3: Hunting

Chapter III

The loud crowing of a rooster pierced Hermione's ears, yanking her from slumber and making her grumble, stuffing her pillow tighter around her mess of frizzy curls to block out the noise. But suddenly she wasn't alone; the dividing curtain rasped and heavy footfalls sounded, crossing the floor just a moment before the blankets were rudely yanked from her body and a sleep-roughened voice like thunder rang out—"Get up! What did I tell you?"

"Aah! What...huh? What's happening?" Hermione yelped, scrambling clumsily up and pushing her hair out of her puffy eyes. What she saw was an irate Severus Snape, his brow knitted and the usual scowl gracing his thin mouth. His hair was already sleek and tied back again, the rest of him encased in the flat black steel suit with his fur-lined cloak draped over one forearm and his helmet held firmly in that hand.

"I told you to be up at cock-crow, did I not?" he demanded.

"I mean...yes, but—"

"But nothing! You are late, and every moment more you dawdle subtracts from our effectiveness! Make yourself decent and be outside in ten minutes," ordered the black-clad knight, moving swiftly out of the small room in a ripple of heavy cloth and cold metal.

It was then that Hermione looked down and realized that she was covered only by a practically transparent shift.

Ten minutes—or more precisely, nine minutes and thirty-three seconds—later, Hermione came bursting out of the house properly dressed and carrying a rucksack. What she noticed immediately was the emptiness of the town; everyone, including her parents, had left overnight.

Everyone, that is, except for the Order of the Phoenix. They were out front, bustling to and fro, packing things, checking supplies and weapons. Snape stood by his large black stallion with Lupin, who was currently fussing over some armor adjustment. Snape caught sight of Hermione and his eyes fell to narrow slits. "You're up."

"I am," Hermione sniffed primly, determined not to let him beat her down.

"Do you know how to ride?" Snape asked, and hissed softly as Lupin cinched a buckle too tight. "Watch it...!"

"Sorry," the other man muttered. He glanced up and over Snape's shoulder with a little smile, "Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Good morning, Sir Lupin," Hermione returned cordially, mirroring his smile.

"Hermione!" The clanking of armor announced Tonks' arrival, her shock of blue hair fluttering in the crisp, cold morning breeze. Her eyes sparkled jovially as she laid both hands on the other girl's shoulders and grinned down happily at her. "You're in for an adventure today, girl! I hope you know how to ride."

"Well, Papa taught me some basics when I was small...why?" the young woman asked uneasily.

"We're going hunting," Remus answered, finishing the last of Snape's armor tweaks. "We ride out of here tomorrow."

"Wait, what? Ride out...you mean leave?" Hermione sputtered. "I thought you were staying to defend the town!"

Both Remus and Tonks laughed, and Snape regarded her coolly. "That was a ruse to get the Muggles out. The Dark Lord is nowhere near here."

"We're trailing him, not going head-to-head," Tonks supplied. "We don't have nearly enough fighters for that."

"No indeed," Snape agreed lowly. "What we seek is much more...elusive."

"Perhaps even more dangerous," Tonks added.

Hermione, stunned past words, simply looked from one to the other. "Can I tell her?" Tonks asked Snape.

"Let me handle this," Snape said loftily, gesturing to Hermione for her to follow. Tonks and Lupin watched them re-enter the Granger home.

"She'll never believe it," Remus said. "She's just been torn from her family and found out that we lied to all those Muggles...it's too much for her to process."

Tonks blinked at the closed door and absently stroked the velvety neck of Snape's charger. "She's a smart girl," she said at last. "She will understand...if not now, then in time."

"She hasn't even gotten control of her magic yet; how is she supposed to help us in this?" Remus challenged.

"Snape told me that her mother wrote him...she said Hermione has a natural gift and desire for medical practice...he thought that we might be able to help turn her into a mediwitch," his wife explained. "We cannot possibly fulfill this quest without some damage; having her there to heal when it is needed would be logically advantageous."

Remus pulled a face. "Since when do you think about anything logically? You're the most heavy-handed, foolhardy person I know, perhaps save for Mad-Eye."

Tonks snickered and shrugged. "Just relaying Snape's words."

The company busied themselves with odd chores for a bit longer until the Granger's door opened again and Snape emerged first, his flat black armor gleaming dully in the watery sunlight, with Hermione drifting behind him and wearing a curiously blank expression.

Tonks took this in. "Poor thing, she's in shock. Look at her."

"Yes, well, Snape likely told her that we're all going to die, so I'm not surprised," said Remus as he brushed dirt out of his horse's mane.

"Mount up," barked Snape, setting a foot in his stirrup and swinging easily into the saddle. "Granger...you don't have a horse, do you?"

"No, sir," Hermione said, seeming to recover from her stupor.

"Black, have you seen any other horses about this place?" Snape shouted over as Sirius settled atop his own horse.

"No, I haven't," Sirius replied scornfully. "My bet is that the Muggles took all of them when they shipped out last night or earlier this morning."

Snape growled, then fixed his gaze back on the girl standing below. "Climb up," he ordered, sliding backwards a bit in the saddle. "And hold on—should you fall off, I have no intention of returning for you." He slid on his helmet and buckled it under his chin as Hermione grabbed the crest of the saddle and struggled up to seat herself in front of him.

She had barely taken hold of the horse's mane when Snape slammed down the visor of his helm and circled a fist in the air; a frightened yelp wrenched from her throat as all seven horses leapt forward at once and took off at a gallop.

Once Hermione's initial fear faded, she began to enjoy it. Snape's breastplate was hard and cold as it bumped against her shoulders, the smell of steel and leather strong as the large black stallion snorted and pounded the earth with powerful hooves. He seemed eager to run, this horse; he was big and strong and vibrant with life, completely unafraid of what lay ahead. He merely trusted his rider to steer him where they needed to go, and he would take them there.

They rode fast into the thick pine forest fringing the town, where the earth was soft with black soil and the shade-cooled air smelled of spicy sap. Hermione felt Snape's grip on the reins relax. "Kingsley!" he called, and motioned ahead.

Out of the corner of her eye Hermione saw Kingsley pull something out of his gauntlet—it looked remarkably like the makeshift wand from home—and intone the words "Expecto Patronum!"

There was a flash of bluish-silver light as something streaked past Snape's horse; Hermione looked incredulously after what looked to be a ghostly lynx pouncing through the trees. "To the hunt!" roared Snape, and dug his spurs into the stallion's flanks. They jolted forward with renewed fervor and the other Order members were close behind.

They tore after the lynx which Kingsley has conjured until another movement caught Hermione's attention—a herd of deer grazing in a clearing. Suddenly she understood the purpose. "Now, Jones!" Snape commanded, and Hermione craned around to see that Hestia Jones had nocked an arrow into a yew bow and had it trained on the herd. In that heartbeat she let fly, and the deadly projectile whistled its flight path straight into the rib cage of a large buck. The animal crumpled without a sound.

"Nice one, Hestia!" cried Sirius Black in appreciation. They slowed their headlong charge as the rest of the herd ran away into the forest, and Snape tugged his stallion to a halt at the edge of the clearing. He dismounted with the other knights and they grouped around the dead buck; again, Kingsley did something with his wand, and the corpse vanished into thin air. Hestia Jones accepted the praise of her company with a grateful smile and returned Snape's curt nod of acknowledgment.

"Kingsley created that lynx to lead you to the herd," Hermione said as Snape settled into the saddle behind her.

With a grunt he took up the reins and swung the horse around. "That is a charm called a Patronus," he told her. "It is traditionally used to banish evil spirits, but it can also lead people to places."

They rode back to town in silence, where Hermione slid somewhat clumsily from the saddle and Snape dismounted gracefully to stride over and join the others. "How much is there?" he asked Kingsley.

"Split among eight, I would say about a month of venison...longer if we salt and dry it."

"What about a Stasis Charm?" Snape questioned.

Kingsley nodded. "Or that."

Snape thought for a moment and then decided, "Salt and dry half, put the other half under Stasis." The group set to work, and Hermione approached the man in dark armor.

"What am I supposed to do? I'm here to help, am I not?"

Snape's mouth twitched. "You will do more to help by keeping away from our work for now," he said. "Go ask Nymphadora if she has anything for you."

Obediently the young woman made her way over to Tonks, who was looking critically at a length of bloodstained cloth. "Hello, Tonks. Snape wants me to help you."

"Oh does he?" Tonks pursed her lips. "I suppose this will be your introduction to healing magic, then. Do you remember what it felt like the last time you did magic?"

Hermione swallowed. "Tingly...powerful. I don't know, that's the best way I can describe it," she finished lamely. "I was a bit emotional, though."

"No, that's just what I was looking for," Tonks assured her. "I've heard you want to practice healing, yes?" Hermione nodded. "Then this is the perfect position for you to take." She rummaged in her saddlebag and pulled out another bag, this one smaller and riddled with pockets of all shapes and sizes. "This is a Potions bag, where we keep all the salves and tonics that Snape brews. They will be your go-to in any situation."

"Wait...Snape brews potions?" Hermione echoed dumbly, holding the beaded bag.

Tonks laughed lightly. "Of course, didn't you know he's a Master Potioneer and Alchemist by trade when he's not fighting for the Order? I suppose not. But you do now, so there."

Hermione listened for over an hour as Tonks talked her through some basic healing remedies, both Muggle and magical. She learned that raw emotion was the greatest outlet for magical energy, and how to channel that energy through her body and out her palm to seal small open wounds. She asked about a wand; Tonks said that wands were simply tools to help for channeling energy, but let her go back into the house and fetch hers.

"Oh, this little stick will never do," Tonks criticized as she looked over Hermione's makeshift instrument. "One of these days we can stop in by Ollivander and get you something worthy."

Hermione wanted to ask who Ollivander was, but they were interrupted by Snape's deep growl. "Nymphadora, it would seem that your husband's horse has thrown a shoe, and he requires your help."

Tonks flashed Hermione a warm smile before getting to her feet and going to Remus. Hermione looked owlishly up at Snape's towering figure. "Did you need something?" she asked innocently.

"I was simply wondering what she has been teaching you," he replied levelly. "I felt magic in the air—new magic. I know the feeling of everyone's in this troupe, so I suspected you had found the channel for yours."

She shrugged. "It's still spotty."

"And so it will be for quite some time, but at least you are competent enough to do the basics." It seemed like a backhanded compliment of sorts, but Hermione dared not push further. Snape called Sirius over and told him to find Hermione a horse for the next morning. The scraggly-bearded man seemed grudging, but he rode out of the empty town promptly.

Snape addressed Hermione: "I expect you to practice your magic with Nymphadora every day. There is no room for lacking skill here. You are free to do as you please for the rest of the day, but return to your house at dusk and get a full nights' rest. We move out at cock-crow tomorrow—and I will not be waking you," he added venomously. "Should you fail to make the deadline, you will be the only one left here."

"I understand," Hermione assured him. "I'll be there."

"You had better be." Snape clinked away, his cloak swishing on the ground.

Gazing after him, Hermione wondered if this ragtag and dysfunctional seven-person army was really going to be the one to destroy the Dark Lord Voldemort.


	4. Chapter 4: Morning

A/N: Thanks, hugs and kisses to everyone who favorited, followed and reviewed! I love you all, and your kindness keeps my creativity burning!

P.S. Just in case you were wondering...I don't own any of this. All hail Lady JKR for her genius; May she live well and prosper.

Ever Yours,

SunnyBunny99

Chapter IV

Hermione subconsciously woke in pitch darkness, shuddering with cold. A soft whinny from outside caught her attention and she got up, yanking on her outer dress with a woolen shawl and going to the door.

Four of the seven Order members were up and moving around in the moonlit cold—Tonks, Remus, Mad-Eye and Snape. Hermione jumped as Mad-Eye's gruff voice rang out:

"If you're going to spy, girl, you might as well come out here to do it."

Snape turned to see the young woman slink out from the shadows. Instead of a scathing remark as she expected, he merely snorted and went back to grooming his horse.

"Early rise today, hmm, Miss Granger?" Remus asked lightly.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes. "I didn't want to take the chance of being left behind." Sucking in a breath, she shivered and let her eyes roam over the abandoned square.

"You're cold!" Tonks exclaimed, watching her carefully. "Well, what's to be expected when you're dressed like that? Here, let me..."

"Not armor," Snape interrupted.

Tonks rounded on him. "Why?"

"She hasn't earned it," was the terse reply.

The blue-haired knight huffed. "Oh, fine." Drawing her wand, she made a series of patterns in the air and Hermione watched in awe as her own threadbare, faded dress transformed into a thick woolen coat with a scarf over a thin leather jerkin with snug leggings and lightweight boots.

"Better?" asked Tonks.

"Much, thank you," breathed Hermione. "How long until we leave?"

"Ask our intrepid leader," Sirius mocked as he emerged from the shadows of the tavern, jerking his chin at Snape.

"Watch yourself, mutt," the black armored warrior sneered, bristling. "Are Jones and Podmore up yet?"

"Getting there."

Snape seemed satisfied. "Then we leave as soon as they're prepared. Black, did you find Granger a horse?"

In reply Sirius put a hand to his mouth and whistled, a high shrilling note. A guttural whinny sounded and a four-legged form materialized from the darkness, cantering up to its caller. Snape's sallow cheeks flushed angrily as he beheld it.

"The damn beast is wild, you fool!" he spat. "It's injured, too—look at its leg!"

Sure enough, a steady rivulet of blood trailed down the animal's right back hock. "Not to mention that it's almost as mangy as you," Snape added scornfully,

"Still has a better temper than you," Sirius shot back, "and it smells better too."

Snape's hand flew to the sword sheathed on his opposite hip and Hermione thought she might be about to witness a duel between two Order knights before Lupin leapt between them.

"Come now, brothers," he pleaded, "why can't we just focus on the mission Lord Dumbledore has set for us instead of infighting?"

Snape's grip left his sword but his eyes still flamed. "Because I cannot lead us to accomplish the mission with a group of mutineers!"

"You're just paranoid!" Sirius dismissed loftily, but the patches of pink high on his cheeks told a different story.

"Paranoid? Is that the new name for jealousy?" Snape challenged, arching a brow and smirking.

Sirius gaped for a moment but seemed unable to form a sensible comeback, so he merely sneered, "Good luck taming that horse," whirled and stalked back to his horse. Snape, Hermione and Remus watched him go with varying levels of emotion.

"He's going to get us killed one of these days," commented Remus, who sounded slightly disappointed.

"Not likely," grunted Snape. "He'll kill me in my sleep first and then abandon the rest of you to die."

Hermione's mind, however, was on other things. "Can we get the horse tamed before we go?"

Both men turned to stare at her. "Also not likely," said Remus. "It takes weeks—sometimes months—to break a domestic horse, let alone a wild one."

But Hermione was nothing if not stubborn, and she made her way over to the new animal—it looked to be a chestnut mare—who was snorting and prancing anxiously around the square. "Hello, girl,"Hermione said softly, approaching slowly. The mare saw her, whinnied and shied away. "Oh, come now," Hermione soothed. "You're alright, you're safe. I will not harm you, I promise."

From Tonks' magic lesson the day before, Hermione recalled that magic runs through all living things whether they are aware of it or not. She remembered the feeling of Tonks' magic, the tingle she had gotten as Kingsley's Patronus raced past her, the thrum in her body when the channeled her own power. There was a connection...and if she could only make this horse feel that connection too, perhaps she might have a chance...

Off to the side, Snape called Hestia Jones over. "Take that mare out to the forest and shoot it," he told her. "It's no use to us, and that leg wound will only get infected out in the forest."

Jones turned her attention to the pair of girl and horse. "But Granger seems to be doing a fair job with it..."

Snape looked to see Hermione knelt by the mare's back end, pouring something from a bottle onto its bleeding leg wound. His face tightened with irritation and he stalked over and demanded, "Is that Dittany?"

"Of course," came her reply, as she looked up at him. "I wanted to sanitize the wound first before healing it, and Dittany does both."

The knight pinched the bridge of his large nose and tried to remain calm. "This is an animal, you foolish girl—we have a limited supply of Dittany, and we cannot afford to go about pouring it on every little cut! Especially not a hopeless case like this one!" he finished accusingly, jerking his chin at the mare.

The horse whinnied and danced away; Hermione got up quickly and put both hands in the air, making shushing noises. Snape watched incredulously as the wild beast calmed before his eyes, and the young woman walked up and stroked its neck.

"She doesn't like people who make sudden movements," said Hermione, "and she doesn't like the smell of metal, either, which is why she won't cooperate with any of you in armor."

The raven-haired knight blinked—"How would you know?" he asked, but already suspected her answer.

"I used Tonks' method of forming a mental magic bond to calm a living creature," the girl replied promptly. "It's usually used to soothe human patients who are badly wounded and in shock or panic, but clearly it is effective on animals as well."

There was a long silence before Snape asked slowly, "So if we provided tack, you could ride?"

Hermione continued to pet the mare's muzzle. "I believe so, if she allows me."

"Lupin, go fetch a set of spare tack," Snape ordered.

"I don't need a bridle; I can tell her which way she needs to go," said Hermione from where she stood.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Make that just a blanket and saddle with stirrups, then."

The required equipment was brought over and given to Hermione, who cautiously approached the mare and paused for a few moments before gently settling the blanket on its back, followed by the saddle. Then she stopped and blushed. "I, uh...I don't know how to fix a saddle," she admitted.

Again Snape's ebony eyes rolled and he stalked impatiently over, shouldering her aside to take the long strip of leather which he buckled to one side of the saddle and let hang down before walking to the other side and reaching under the mare's belly to pull it up and buckle it to the other side. "This is the girth," he told Hermione. "Obviously, it holds the saddle on the horse. You'll want to tighten it up again before we leave; many horses like to hold their breath while the girth is buckled and then release it later, which leaves the girth loose."

"She's not holding her breath," said Hermione.

"Fine, then," sighed the put-upon knight, cinching the girth just a notch tighter than necessary in his irritation. The mare's head swung around and grabbed his tail of hair in its mouth, yanking hard.

"OI!" Snape bellowed, but the mare released him before he could do anything to retaliate. Mortified, Snape turned to see his entire company doubled over in helpless fits of laughter.

"Well, I can die happily now," giggled Tonks. "There's something I never thought I'd see!"

"I guess it likes greasy food," jibed Sirius, and everyone started laughing afresh.

"There's a reason they call it a ponytail, Snape!" Remus grinned.

"Well, if he couldn't guess why before, I'll bet he can now," Kingsley added.

"Yes, yes, very funny," grumbled Snape, scowling hard. "We're all here now, so let's not waste any more time. Mount up and move out!"

Hermione followed the others' example, bracing her boot in the stirrup and pulling herself up until she was able to swing her other leg over and settle her weight comfortably in the saddle. She reached out towards the mental link with her new horse and felt that primal emotion, a mere feeling that allowed them to communicate without words. She let her humor at the hair-pulling incident seep through and felt the mare's return of similar sensations. Yes, this would work quite well.

Coming back to the present, as Snape clamped down his helmet visor, Hermione dared to ask the question she had been wondering since she found out the true purpose of this quest:

"Where are we going?"

Lupin trotted to her side and answered confidently, his voice echoing in his own helmet—"The home of the Order."

Hermione felt her breath hitch and her pulse speed up. Surely not...that place was only legend!

But before she could speak again, Snape spurred his stallion into a shallow rear with a fierce, joyous shout:

"Onwards to Grimmauld Castle!"


	5. Chapter 5: Campfire

A/N: Thanks to everyone who favorited, followed and reviewed! You're the best! Keep up the great work! Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

Ever Yours,

SunnyBunny99

Chapter V

"All clear," delcared Mad-Eye as he rode back from a corpse of ash trees that he had been sent to scout for security.

"We'll set up here for the night." Snape's rumbling voice brooked no argument as he swung off his stallion and led the group to their designated campsite.

Hermione groaned lowly as she slid—still clumsy and stiff—from her own saddle. Her mare, whom she had since named Enya from that morning, followed her without prompting. Tonks set a Barrier Charm to keep the horses contained and they began unpacking and unsaddling as Snape and Podmore pitched tents.

When Hermione was finished, she set her tack with the others' and gaped at what she saw waiting in the trees. Seven white canvas tents had been erected in a semicircle around a large fire pit which was now crackling merrily, its large flames all the shifting colors of the rainbow. It splashed vivid dancing light on the blank sides of the tents and low-lit the faces of the knights clustered around, warming their cold and tired bodies from the day's ride. Snape was nowhere to be seen as Tonks ushered Hermione over to stand between her and Remus. "Why are there only eight tents when there are nine of us?" The young woman asked.

Tonks smiled down at her, "Because Remus and I share one, of course!"

"Oh. Right," Hermione muttered, slightly embarrassed at her lack of common sense. Tonks flicked her wand and a set of tree stumps grew out of the ground, perfectly situated for each person according to their height and just the right distance from the fire to be warm but not overly so. They all settled down and Kingsley reached into a satchel by his side to begin passing out paper-wrapped parcels tied with twine. Hermione opened hers and found a chunk of raw venison with a couple slices of onion, some pale cheese and a handful of nuts. Around her, the Order of the Phoenix was drawing their swords, then taking the meat and onion to skewer and hold over the fire. Hermione scrabbled around in the shrubs nearby for a minute before finding a smallish stick and bringing it back—"Tonks, could you sharpen this for me, please?"

The older witch's sparkling eyes fell on the stick and she scoffed. "Aw, hell, Hermione! All you had to do was ask to borrow my blade—here, I'm done with it for now; take it." Pulling the sizzling meat and onion from the steel, Tonks extended the pommel of the sword to Hermione, who took it.

Tonks' sword in her grip felt somehow good and yet not quite right at the same time. It was weighted nicely, but wasn't perfectly balanced for her and it felt too long. Pushing aside the nagging desire to try swinging it, Hermione skewered her dinner and held it over the flames.

"So," said Mad-Eye, "how did you like your first ride with the Order?"

"Not very much, to be honest," Hermione confessed. "I'm quite sore and a bit bruised."

All around her the armor-clad fighters laughed. "Occupational hazard, love," said Hestia Jones. "Once we get into the best part of this quest, saddle soreness will be the least of your worries, trust me."

A silence settled over the group then, more grim than awkward. Finally, after clearing her throat and pulling the sword from the fire, Hermione dared to ask the question she had wondered since the war had begun. "Have any of you ever...seen him?"

"The Dark Lord?" asked Moody in a growl, and Hermione nodded. "No one here...except him," he said, jerking his head in the direction of Snape's tent.

"That much is obvious, seeing that he served that slit-nosed bastard for twenty years," Sirius sneered.

"Sirius, watch yourself," Tonks warned. "You know he listens."

"Let him listen! And he can know that I'd love to see him bend over and—"

"Black."

Sirius flinched and they all turned to see Snape standing behind them, his severe features bathed in a striking mix of shifting color and deep shadow. The flames flared bright scarlet and cast an almost demonic light to his fathomless black eyes. "Surely you haven't forgotten the extensive reach of the Dark Lord's power," he said, his deep voice a sibilant hiss. "Perhaps you need a small reminder that the Death Eaters are some of the most powerful wizards and warriors in existence, and that yes, I did serve as the Dark Lord's right-hand man." He stepped closer, towering over them, his tone intensifying.

"Tell me then, Black, you mutt; when was the last time you looked Death in the face and lied to him? When was the last time you were forced to watch innocents die because they had no magic in their blood? Tell me, Black."

Sirius' flushed face glared back for several long and silent moments before he muttered, "I'm not hungry anymore," and stalked into the nearest tent. His sword still lay by the fire with his food.

Snape stared after him for a long while with narrowed eyes before turning back to the rest of the Order. "Pardon the...intrusion. I was simply going to ask Granger if she had done her magic practice with Nymphadora today."

Hermione blanched. "I...no, I haven't."

Thin lips tightened and he nodded curtly. "I thought as much. Finish your meal and see to it." His piece said, he returned to duck inside his tent once more and disappear from sight.

"Why doesn't he eat out here with the rest of you?" Hermione mused, taking a bite of onion with venison.

Sturgis Podmore snorted. "If you hadn't noticed, he isn't exactly what you'd call a people person. He has major paranoia...jumpy as a squirrel." He shook his head.

"From the first war, no doubt," interjected Moody.

Podmore scoffed. "Are you defending him, Mad-Eye?"

"Yes, I am, because I'm in the same boat, laddie!" Mad-Eye snapped. "You don't the hell on earth that battle wreaks on someone's mind until you're living it. These aren't beauty marks, you know." He waved a fat finger at his own deep, jagged facial scars. "So I suggest you keep your flappy gob shut unless you actually know what you're talking about." With one last snort he heaved his steel-covered bulk up from the tree stump and hobbled away into an empty tent.

The remaining company members stared after him in mild shock; Podmore muttered something unintelligible under his breath and left the circle as well. Hestia Jones gave an exaggerated frown and licked steaming blood from her fingers before speaking to Hermione—"Never thought you'd see this much drama amongst a bunch of full-grown men, eh?"

The girl giggled softly. "No, I suppose not."

"It flares up every now and again," the other woman said dismissively. "It's bound to, really, what with all of us being together day in and day out for so long. Don't mind them, though; Sirius just likes to try and take stabs at Snape, Snape bites back and the whole thing blows up, story over."

"Do you think they'll actually fight?" asked Hermione. "Physically, I mean."

"It's come damn close a few times," Tonks said, "but no, I don't reckon so. If anything can be said for him, Snape is good at being the bigger man. Ultimately, he's more mature...less emotionally volatile than Sirius. Reckon that's why Lord Dumbledore chose him to lead."

They finished their repast in comfortable quiet, listening to the wind in the trees and the chorus of crickets and owls. "C'mon, Hermione," said Tonks at length as she got up, "let's get that magic lesson done with, yeah?"

Forty-five minutes later they returned to the campfire, which had since been abandoned and burnt down to smoldering embers. "Remus and I will be in that tent if you need anything," said Tonks, pointing. "You feeling alright?"

Hermione nodded. "Just a bit tired, I suppose."

"Magic does that," Tonks shrugged. "You'll get stronger, more used to it." She left the young woman with a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Tonks," replied Hermione. When Tonks had gone into her tent, she sat by the dead fire again, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it absently in her fingers. She was tired but somehow still unable to sleep.

Fifteen minutes or so later a soft rustle caught her attention, and Hermione perked up to see a tall, slender silhouette rise from a tent. It was Snape, out of his armor and dressed in a long black cloak over a loose tunic with baggy trousers and thick boots. There was a pendant 'round his neck too, a silver chain holding a green stone which flashed as it swung.

Standing tall and still, Snape seemed to taste the cold night air before moving again. The fire was gone by now, so Hermione doubted he could see her sitting there in the darkness. He paused at the edge of the trees around the campsite and murmured, "Not a word, Granger," before rippling away and melting into the night around them.

The fright gave Hermione such a jolt of adrenaline that she got hardly a wink of sleep for the rest of that night.


	6. Chapter 6: Ambush Arrival

A/N: Sorry, this is a short chapter! I just needed to bust one out before going to sleep, so here is the result. Again, reviews, favorites and follows are most appreciated; let me know what you like and what you want to see more of in chapters to come!

Ever Yours,

SunnyBunny99

Chapter VI

"Wake up, girl, you're about to fall off your horse!"

Mad-Eye's gruff voice snapped Hermione back to reality. She shook her head, pushing a mess of curls away from her face as she righted herself in the saddle. "Sorry. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"That much is obvious," grumbled the older wizard. "We're almost there anyhow, so it would you do you well to stay alert."

Up ahead, Snape halted and held a hand in the air—the signal for complete stillness and silence. Everyone froze, their breaths fogging densely in the frigid air; even the horses seemed to sense it too. Hermione felt her heart rate kick up, her palms growing sweaty as her grip on Enya's mane tightened. She could sense the mare's anxiety through their mental link.

A throaty roar sounded off to the right, deep in the murky trees; at once all eight knights drew their weapons, seven with swords and Jones readying her bow in a flash. "Granger, to me," ordered Snape in a low, hard tone. Hermione was not about to argue and quickly trotted to his side. "If we have a confrontation, you will ride as fast as possible down this trail until you reach the castle, understood?"

"Yes," said Hermione, her voice shaking slightly even as she tried to look confident.

"Keep your eyes sharp," Snape called quietly, his own helmeted head swiveling to and fro. A stray beam of sunlight lancing down between the trees caught the edge of his blade as he hefted it, making the pristine silver steel flash. It was a very pretty sword, Hermione noted in a moment of odd detachment, the two-handed grip wrapped in black leather and the silver guard and pommel embedded with small green stones.

Another roar suddenly sounded, this one much closer, and Jones released her arrow in the direction of the noise. "No!" Snape bellowed, but it was too late. The roar was cut off by a yelp of pain which morphed into a furious growl; a heartbeat later something huge and very angry could be heard crashing through the brush towards them.

"GO, Granger!" Snape commanded powerfully, and the flat of his sword fell on the rear end of her horse. Enya gave a terrified whinny and took off at top speed, forcing her rider to crouch low and brace against the wind. Hermione managed to throw a fleeting glance behind as they fled—all she saw was a massive dark, hairy creature on four legs bursting out of the bushes into the middle of the Order. They all scattered and drew back, whirling their swords and shouting to one another. Then Enya abruptly changed direction and the group of warriors was lost to sight.

Hermione had no idea if the mare knew where Grimmauld Castle was, but she continued to press the thoughts through the mental link and hoped that it registered. Onward they pounded, the world around them a blur of green and brown. Chuffing for breath, Enya leapt up the crest of a hill, and—holy Merlin, there it was. It was all the magnificent beauty she had hoped for and heard of, built of pure white alabaster with all three soaring turrets flying that striking scarlet and gold banner which marked the Order of the Phoenix.

Down they plunged then, reckless and fearful, hurtling headlong for that monument of safety. A sparkling blue moat ringed the castle and as they rode closer on the smooth dirt road it was clear that the drawbridge was—thankfully—down.

There were two guards posted on either side of the bridge, holding lances, which they leveled as Hermione closed in. "Please, we need help!" shouted the young woman. "I'm with the Order—they've been attacked by an animal—quickly, please! Hurry!"

"Who are you? I've never seen you before," one of the guards said suspiciously, eyeing her.

"I told you, I'm with the Order!" Hermione burst impatiently. "We were on our way here when something attacked; Master Snape told me to go get help! Come on!"

"You could be a Dark sorceress trying to lead us into a trap!" the other guard accused. "How do we know you're trustworthy?"

Exasperated, the girl fixed him with her best Snape-like glower and said, "Honestly, you don't, but just know that it's going to be your fault when Lord Dumbledore's best knights end up dead!"

The guard looked like he was about to reply when his eyes flicked behind her and suddenly widened. Hearing the creak of leather, jangle of brass and clank of armor, Hermione craned around and gasped, "You're alive!"

"Barely," panted Severus Snape as he led the company past her and over the drawbridge. Before going in, however, he halted next to the guards. "Run as fast as you can and fetch Poppy Pomfrey; we have two critically injured."

"Yes sir!" Both guards were off and running at a moment's notice.

Hermione stared at Snape, her face white. "Who is hurt?"

"Jones—the stupid wench—and Podmore," replied Snape, taking off his helmet to wipe the sweat from his brow and push a few wet strands of heavy black hair out of his eyes. He blinked hard and huffed, suddenly looking more weary and put-upon than his usual proud, snarky countenance. "Get those two inside to Poppy now," he ordered; Mad-Eye and Lupin took the injured knights' horses and hurried to lead them over the bridge.

One of the guards came running back. "Master Snape, Lord Dumbledore would like an audience with you."

The black-armored man sneered bitterly and tightened his reins. "Sodding old fool," he muttered, but nudged his stallion into a trot and vanished into the darkness on the opposite side of the drawbridge.

Hermione glanced over at Tonks, whose hair was mussed and whose usually cheery face bore a grim expression. "What was it?"

"Mountain bear," Tonks answered. "Jones, what a fool...I don't know what possessed her to fire before Snape gave permission, but she sure as hell is paying for that mistake now." She shook her head in disapproval. A small, bitter laugh wrenched from her throat before she remarked, "Welcome to Grimmauld Castle," and spurred her horse away.

Hermione urged Enya to follow, and as they passed under the spiked iron gate flanked by statues of winged lions she had an eerie feeling that this place hid more things than it told.


	7. Chapter 7: Grimmauld Castle

A/N: Thanks to all reviewers, followers and favorites; they are much appreciated! Hope you enjoy this chapter—the next one will be longer. Drop a review to let me know what you think!

Ever Yours,

SunnyBunny99

Chapter VII

The main gate of Grimmauld Castle led into a cobblestone courtyard, where the unharmed members of the Order were gathered, dismounting and letting servants take their horses to the stables. Snape's ebony charger was already in a stall, his rider nowhere to be seen—presumably already in the castle.

"Lady, may I take your horse?"

Startled, Hermione looked into the earnest face of a young man. He looked near to her own age, with a tousled mop of black hair and deep green eyes which flicked back and forth across her face as he gazed at her from the ground. "Uh...yes, I suppose so, thank you," she stammered, swinging out of the saddle and landing lightly.

"It's my honor," the other said in reply, smiling at her in a warm fashion, then noticed, "Why...! Your horse has no bridle or reins; how do you direct?"

Lost for words, Hermione had to scramble for a suitable explanation. "I, uh...use magic, of sorts," she said lamely.

"Oh, that's understandable!" the stable hand nodded. "If I am not being too direct, I wager you and I are close in age. It isn't often that the Order returns with someone like us...a young person, I mean."

Hermione looked at him, her curiosity piqued; here was someone who knew the place and everyone in it. "Of course not...young people can't be trusted to fight a war." She stepped closer, around Enya, and brushed dust from her coat before extending a hand. "My name is Hermione Granger, if you ever wish to find me."

The young man took her hand, bent down and kissed her knuckles before straightening back up and replying, "And I'm Harry Potter."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister Potter."

"Oh, call me Harry," he said quickly. "Only Snape calls me Potter."

Hermione detected a hint of fear and loathing in his tone, and noticed that he hadn't given Snape the honorary title of "Master" before his name as the other servants did. She was about to ask why when Tonks interrupted—

"Hermione, come on, we're going in!"

"Coming, Tonks," replied the young woman, and she turned back to Harry. "I will find you again later, Harry. Until then." He nodded respectfully back at her and she dashed off to join the Order as they proceeded into the main castle.

As the iron-studded double oak doors swung aside, the breath was stolen from Hermione's lungs. There were several great chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, but floating freely by themselves and not on chains. The white walls were draped with banners and paintings—moving paintings, shifting around and gossiping with each other, a few human subjects going from one frame to the others.

Seeing her reaction, Remus smiled proudly and Tonks prodded her shoulder to point upwards. Hermione looked and saw that the high vaulted ceiling seemed to be open and displaying the clear, cloudless blue November sky.

"It's enchanted," explained Tonks with a smile. "At night you can see the constellations."

"Beautiful," breathed Hermione.

"Indeed it is," said a new voice, male and ringing with authority.

All five people turned and immediately four of them—Tonks, Remus, Mad-Eye and Sirius—dropped to one knee with their faces bent to the marble floor. "My liege!" they chorused.

Lord Albus Dumbledore smiled down at his knights, a pair of electric blue eyes sparkling from his weathered, white-bearded face. He spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture and said, "Rise, my faithful friends." They obeyed and he swept forward, first embracing Sirius and going down the line until he reached a trembling Hermione. Unsure of how to conduct herself, she dipped into a low curtsy.

"Oh, please rise, Miss Granger; such formalities are unnecessary, although I appreciate the gesture," the old man chuckled, taking her small, smooth hand in his larger, knobby-boned one and patting it. "You are my guest in this place, and I shall see to it that you are treated as such. I have informed the house-elves of your arrival and your chambers should be prepared by the end of dinner tonight."

"M-my Lord?" Hermione flushed. "You know I was coming?"

The mischievous yet wise twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes amplified. "But of course! Severus met with me soon as he arrived here, told me everything—you seem to be a natural at healing magic," he gushed.

"I...I'm a work in progress."

"Every great wizard or witch of legend was once a learner," Dumbledore said. "Being here will allow you to focus more on honing those skills. Here at Grimmauld Castle we have a great many number of people who will be all too happy to help train you up. Would you be partial to that?"

"It would be an honor, sir," Hermione said earnestly.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore glowed, and clasped his hands together. "Well, enough chit-chat for now. I'm sure you're all quite tired and hungry, so let's eat!" He then clapped twice, and Hermione gasped as the long banquet table was suddenly laden with food of all sorts. Dumbledore took his seat at the head as the rest of the Order arranged themselves on either side; Tonks grabbed Hermione and pushed her into a chair between she and Remus.

As the meal began, Hermione allowed herself to be dazzled. There was more food on this table than most townspeople back at home had ever laid eyes on in their whole lives, and much more variety. Savory roasted duck, quail, chicken, pork, veal, venison; loaves of whole grain and sourdough breads, wheels of different colored cheeses studded with fruit and nuts, pudding with savory and sweet sauces, baskets of fresh fruit and jugs of cold, clean water, aged mead, fine wines, butterbeer and pumpkin juice. It was almost overwhelming.

Hermione tucked in until she could not take another bite or sip. Around her, the Order was celebrating their return with joking, stories, laughter and lots of alcohol. Again, though, Snape's absence was noticed; then again, Hermione could not blame him. When he had passed her at the gate he sat in the saddle like a man who had aged a century in one hour.

"You should go get some rest; you've had a long day," said Tonks by her side, the smell of wine strong on her breath.

Wordlessly Hermione got up and went to Dumbledore, who had politely refused any alcohol and now turned a pair of very bright eyes on her. "Lord Dumbledore, may I be excused to my chambers now?"

The old wizard laughed. "Of course, Miss Granger! Dobby!"

With a muffled snap, a small goblin-esque creature with huge batlike ears and watery, bulbous eyes appeared at his side and spoke in a squeaky voice: "Lord Dumbledore! What would you be needing today, sir?"

"Dobby, please take Miss Granger to her chambers," said Dumbledore.

The house-elf bowed. "Dobby lives to serve Lord Dumbledore and his friends!" Before Hermione could say or do anything the little creature had grabbed her hand and snapped his fingers; suddenly she found herself standing in another room.

"If Miss Granger should be needing anything, all she should do is call for Dobby!" the house-elf squeaked.

"Oh...alright. Thank you, Dobby," Hermione said, still slightly dizzy. Dobby bowed and snapped out again, leaving the young woman to herself in her new bedchambers.

Having an ever curious spirit, the first order of business was exploration. Hermione crossed the room and opened the huge chest of drawers to see that all of her belongings had been magically transferred into it, except for her ratty old clothes, which had been replaced by a rack full of fine dresses all crafted of satin, linen, cotton and silk. The drawer below was full of footwear: slip-on flats, heels, boots and the like.

Hermione quickly undressed from her dusty patchwork dress and tugged a sheer silk robe from its notch before seeking out the bathroom. She soon found it, a gorgeous dome-roofed affair with a marble tub and multiple silver taps which ran colored foam. The tub was soon filled with steaming water and bubbles into which Hermione sank gratefully with a sigh.

After a long and luxurious bath, she dried with a fluffy towel and slipped on the robe. Back in her bedchamber, she pulled aside the heavy velvet curtains of the four-poster bed and tumbled onto the goose-feather down mattress.

The sheets were soft and cool against her skin, and Hermione gazed contentedly up at the ceiling, which had been set with the same charm as that in the main hall; now it reflected the clear, star-studded night sky.

Yes indeed, Grimmauld Castle was a good place. She could most definitely get used to this.


	8. Chapter 8: Reunion

A/N: All my love to those who favorited, followed and reviewed! Yes, Harry is already here...but I've made a large tweak to his role in the story. In this version there is no *specific* Chosen One, and there was never a prophecy. Lily and James were killed because Lily was a Muggleborn and James died defending her. Snape tipped them off that DEs were coming to their village, so they hid baby Harry before their home was invaded; therefore, Voldemort never even saw him. As far as this story is concerned, they were simply another notch in his belt and there was nothing special about that night. Harry is not The Boy Who Lived, nor is he a Horcrux. Just thought I'd set the backstory so you would all better understand.

Ever Yours,

SunnyBunny99

Chapter VIII

Warm sunlight streaming through the tall stained glass windows woke Hermione, and she yawned and stretched languorously. The air smelled faintly of burnt incense and her sharp amber eyes tracked every tiny dust mote floating through the golden shafts of light for a few relaxing minutes before she stirred herself to rise and dress.

While fumbling to lace up the back of her corset, Hermione noticed something that had escaped her scrutiny the night before: a small arched wooden door set into the far wall by the chest of drawers. Thinking nothing of it, she walked over and grasped the plain brass knob, pushing the door open and staring into the room beyond—

—and found herself face to face with a rather shocked Severus Snape. His black eyes widened, thin lips parting ever so slightly as he beheld her there. In the suspended moment between them Hermione's treacherous eyes roamed down his body, which was only half-clothed in a pair of simple cotton breeches. He was much taller and broader when close up and not in armor, his pale skin stretched taut over the jutting line of his collarbone and lean torso with a smattering of dark hair on his pectorals, trailing down below the waist of his breeches. His long arms, solid with lean muscle and roped with veins, rose up from his sides—

—and forcefully shoved Hermione backwards, into her own chambers as his deep, husky voice snarled at her, "What the hell are you doing, girl?! Get out of my room!"

Struck speechless, Hermione could do nothing but watch as he slammed the door shut and locked it firmly from the other side. She had a fleeting thought to bang on the door and apologize, to insist it was an accident, but the reasonable side of her mind shut that idea down quickly. He would be in no mood to hear it now; she would have to find him later and explain things.

Sighing, Hermione turned away and felt her stomach growl. She had no idea how she could possibly be hungry again after last night's feast, but somehow it happened. Remembering what the house-elf had said, she softly called out, "Dobby!"

Instantly there came a crack and Dobby stood before her, looking sheepish and hopeful at the same time. "Dobby is here for Miss Granger! What is Miss Granger needing?"

Hermione smiled down at the elf. "Good morning, Dobby. I was wondering if you could take me to the main hall where we ate last night? I'm a bit hungry."

"Dobby is happy to help!"

Crack! They were back in the Great Hall, the ceiling now showing a beautiful rosy dawn overhead. Hermione turned to thank Dobby, but he was already gone. She focused on the long dining table again and saw Sirius there...sitting and eating breakfast with the green-eyed stable boy.

"Funny, I thought knights didn't interact with people of lower social status," she teased lightly as she approached them.

Sirius turned and his eyes lit up. "Ah, Miss Granger! Good morning. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner—this is my godson Harry. Harry, meet Miss Granger."

"We've already met, actually, but it's good to see you," said Harry with a smile.

"And you as well," returned Hermione warmly. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," said Harry, and she settled in to fill her plate.

"Where are all the others?" she asked between bites.

"As you know, Jones and Podmore are recovering in the hospital wing," said Sirius. "Mad-Eye is probably sleeping off a hangover, Remus and Tonks are either doing the same or having sex—"

Hermione choked on her egg.

"—and Snape...well, who cares about his greasy arse," Sirius finished scornfully.

Once she had gotten her breath back, Hermione cleared her throat and asked gingerly, "And what of Lord Dumbledore?"

Sirius shrugged. "He's an anomaly. There's no telling with him, to be honest. He could be anywhere, doing anything."

"So...what does everyone do when they're here?" Hermione asked. "Tonks told me Snape is a Potioneer, but what about you?"

"I serve odd chores around the castle, mostly helping Argus Filch, our blacksmith," Sirius said. "Tonks helps Poppy Pomfrey—our nurse—gather, make and stock medicines, and serves as an aide when needed. Remus teaches part of the squire's curriculum as they progress to knighthood."

The double doors at the end of the hall opened again and in strode another young man. The snobbishness was evident merely in his walk, even though his clothes were no finer than Harry's; he had narrow gray eyes, high arched brows and white-blond hair, now ruffled from the wind outdoors. He took one look at the three sitting at the table and scoffed, the corner of his lip curling up, before he crossed the hall and sauntered into the corridor, out of sight.

Hermione already hated him. "Who was that?"

"Draco Malfoy," Harry muttered sourly. "He's a stablehand just like me, hoping to get into the squire's program for knighthood."

"His father sent him here while he marches with the Death Eaters," Sirius added in a growl. "Wants to keep his precious baby boy safe until he's ripe for picking, then I reckon he'll join ranks with Ol' Snake Face."

"Does Lord Dumbledore know his father is with the Dark Lord? Surely he wouldn't allow the son of a Death Eater to try for a knighthood in the Order," Hermione reasoned.

"Oh, Dumbledore knows all right; he's just ridiculously naive," said Sirius. "He forces himself to 'see the best in people,' even if they're built up of pure wickedness from head to toe." He took a swig of pumpkin juice and wiped residue from his beard.

Hermione turned her gaze to his godson. "So, Harry, you said you want to become a knight?"

"That's right."

"How long does that usually take?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Depends on how long Lord Dumbledore takes to decide whether or not to submit you for training. I requested a squireship about half a month ago and haven't heard back yet."

"You'll get it," encouraged Sirius. "I've repeatedly told Lord Dumbledore how hard you're working and practicing by yourself. There's no other candidate who deserves it more than you do."

"But Sirius, I don't want to get in on your begging for me," Harry argued, "I want to earn this! This is my time to work my way to glory!"

"And a fine lot of glory you'll be in, shoveling shit all day," sneered a cold voice behind them. It was the boy from earlier, Draco Malfoy. He smirked. "In six months you'll be waiting on me hand and foot, spit-shining my armor and cleaning up after my horse." He leaned in closer, and Hermione saw the malicious gleam in his pale eyes. "And when I come back from a victorious battle, I'll make you lick the blood off of my sword."

Sirius bolted to his feet, sending his chair flying as he rounded ferociously on Malfoy. "Hold your tongue, you wretched little bastard cur, or I'll have you cleaning my horse's stall with it!"

Another voice, this one smooth and deep, cut in as a heavy, pale hand landed on Malfoy's shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make the boy wince. "Draco, didn't your mother tell you not to stir up any trouble while you are here?" It was Snape, and he fixed Malfoy with a hard, glittering dark stare. "Run along now and go play knight and dragon with your fellow stablehands." He practically shoved Draco away and his gaze shifted to Harry, who met his eyes bravely—almost insolently. "And you, Potter..." he said softly, "didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to stare?" He paused. "Oh, that's right...she wasn't alive to do it. What a pity."

Harry flushed red and opened his mouth, but Sirius stepped up to Snape, his hands curling into fists. "I'll tell you the same thing I just told the snot-nosed Malfoy runt," he snarled. "Stay away from my godson or else."

One elegant black eyebrow arched sharply and Snape sneered, looking like a taller, darker, much more intimidating version of Malfoy. "So you say, Black. But we all know that your bark is worse than your bite. Try anything and we'll see who comes out in one piece."

Sirius looked prepared to throw a blow, but Snape merely tossed his sleek black head and swept out of the Great Hall. "Great greasy bastard," Harry's godfather uttered, watching the door slam.

Suddenly Hermione felt her hunger vanish like ash in the wind, and she coughed softly and put her plate aside. "Well, thank you both for letting me join you. I think I'm going to go do a bit more exploring, if you don't mind," she excused herself politely.

"Oh, sure. You look like a clever sort; try checking out the library," suggested Harry.

Hermione perked up. "Library?"

"Just down the main corridor, second door to the left."

No sooner had he finished the sentence than the girl was gone in a flurry of satin. Harry turned back to his plate, looking at his godfather with a slightly baffled expression. Sirius shrugged and continued eating.

Meanwhile, Hermione was already in the massive library, staring up in awe at the windows circling the domed ceiling and the towering rows of bookshelves lying in wait for her. There was everything she had ever wanted and more—tomes, novels, scriptures, epics, history documents, instruction manuals, recipe books. Ever since she was tiny Hermione had learned and loved to read, but the materials were scarce in her hometown. Here, though, she could easily rekindle and foster that passion. Giggling happily, she dove headfirst into the dense maze of shelves and began skimming and pulling.

Half an hour later she was seated on the carpeted floor surrounded by a huge pile of books with a fat manual propped open in her lap. She was so engrossed in her newfound love that she never noticed the pair of shoes that wandered into her plane of view. A mild clearing of the throat managed to snag and surface her, and she looked up with a startled gasp.

The lanky boy with flaming ginger hair and freckles grinned down at her. "Hi there, 'Mione. Fancy seeing you here."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, scrambling up and wrapping her childhood friend in a tight hug. "How are you? How is your family? What are you doing here?"

"Oi, one question at a time!" Ron chuckled. "I'm fine, and so are Mum and Dad, Fred and George and Ginny. Last we heard, Charlie was in Scandinavia, so we reckon he's safe. Percy is too smart to stick around a place like this, so he's alright too. We came through here on our way to a little coastal town, but Mum and Dad are debating on asking Lord Dumbledore if we can stay."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Hermione gushed. "I hope he says yes. It's so good to see you again; I felt simply awful when I realized I hadn't said goodbye."

"Eh, Mum and Dad were too busy worrying about your safety to be offended," said Ron. "They don't like Snape much, you know, worry he's still got a foot in with You-Know-Who."

Hermione huffed and folded her arms. "You can tell your Mum and Dad not to be dramatic. I was with the whole Order, not just Snape. And he was fine, mind you. A bit cranky, perhaps, but nothing I couldn't handle."

Ron shrugged, then looked up hopefully. "Say, have you met Lord Dumbledore yet?"

"Yes," Hermione replied.

The ginger-haired boy's eyes went wide—"You have? Really? What's he like?"

"Kind...but a bit dotty," Hermione decided. "I'll introduce you at dinner if you like."

Ron looked like he might faint for joy. "Oh, just wait 'til Fred and George get a load of this! They'll go green with envy!"

"I met one of the knights' godson too," mentioned Hermione. "His name's Harry, he's quite nice. I think you'd get along well."

Ron grinned. "Any relative of an Order knight is a friend of mine!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, you numbskull, help me get these books sorted out and back on the shelves. Then we can have a look around the castle together."

In all her years, Hermione had never seen Ron Weasley move so fast. He practically threw the books back—all twenty-three of them—and dragged a startled Hermione out the library door to continue their adventure.


	9. Chapter 9: Discovery

Chapter IX

The air grew significantly cooler as Ron and Hermione pattered down a long, spiraling stairwell. At the landing everything seemed to change; the magnificence of the castle was abruptly lost as their feet hit rough un-hewn stone, and sputtering torches were braced on the slimy walls with mossy brackets. Dripping water could be heard down several passageways, all of which were narrow, dark, cold and crooked. There was certainly no doubt that these were the dungeons.

"Hermione, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Ron whimpered as a large spider scurried across the corridor in front of them.

"Honestly, Ron, it's just an insect," Hermione sighed, and took the lead in tugging him onward. The pitch darkness was so complete going forward that she had to go on tiptoe and yank a torch from its bracket; she grimaced at the sensation of slick moss and damp wood against her hand.

Three passages greeted them: one leading straight and two going either left or right. After some debate the two decided to journey on directly ahead. The dripping sound amplified, and after some time Hermione abruptly stopped and threw out an arm.

"Stop—! Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"No, but now I wish I had," Ron whispered back, practically clinging to her.

"It sounded like movement..."

"A rat, maybe?"

Hermione shook her frizzy head, curls bouncing and swaying. "Something definitely bigger than a rat. Almost like footsteps...but who in their right mind would be down here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," hissed a menacing voice behind them.

Hermione and Ron both spun around and the young man gave a rather shrill, choked half-scream. A tall black figure towered over them, its face hidden in shadow, but what was very visible was a leather apron spattered in congealed blood and a dripping carving knife gripped in the figure's right hand. Hermione recognized exactly who it was then and smacked Ron's arm to snap him out of his terror—"Calm down, Ron! It's just Master Snape!"

Snape took another step forward, allowing his features to be illuminated by the torchlight. That move in of itself wasn't exactly very comforting either, though, as Hermione saw smeared streaks of gore on his cheeks and...was that a bit of fur in his hair? "You two are either very bold or very stupid to come wandering down here," he said. "Likely both."

"Sorry, sir. We were just exploring," Hermione explained breathlessly. "What, um...what are you doing?"

Snape examined his fingernails, which were crusted with flaky crimson. "As of right now, I am apprehending a pair of feckless young dunderheads," he said. Looking back up at them, he lazily twirled the carving knife, which flicked several drops of blood onto Ron. "But before I heard you two crashing about my dungeons like a pair of runaway dragons, I was skinning and eviscerating a brood of nifflers for use in a potion."

"Oh." Ron sounded like he might be sick, or faint. Perhaps both, and neither option would end well with Snape. "Wait..." Suddenly he seemed to come to, like a sleepwalker from a waking dream. "Wait, you're...Snape? Severus Snape?"

A familiar and irritable sneer curled the knight's upper lip. "So often I wish I was not. However, as your partner in crime Miss Granger stated earlier, yes. I am." He slipped the knife into a loop in his apron and planted sticky red hands on his narrow hips to glare impassively down at them. "Did you need something from me, or have you just come to disturb my peace?"

"We're sorry, sir," repeated Hermione, forcefully pulling a dazed-looking Ron behind her. "I'm afraid he got a rather nasty bump to the head on one of these torches and, well," she laughed apologetically, "as you can see, he's a bit confused. I'll get him back up top and we'll leave you to work in peace. It won't happen again."

Snape's black eyes rolled and he stepped aside to let them pass. "For your sake it had better not," he growled. As they went for the stairs Hermione shoved the torch into its bracket and chanced a look back; Snape was still staring after them with a neutral expression on his face and an odd glitter in his liquid black eyes.

"Let's not do that again, shall we?" she panted as they came back up to the sun-drenched corridor.

"Holy bollocks," Ron mumbled weakly. "That was Snape...?"

"I think we've established that fact."

With her friend still trembling in tow, Hermione led them outside to the courtyard. There she spotted Harry bent over a stack of hay and pitching busily. Sirius was not far off, having set up an anvil and now clanging a hammer on a red hot length of metal. "Hi, Harry, Sirius!" Hermione called, waving. Both looked up and waved back. "I'd like you to meet my friend Ron."

"Hi, I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," the ginger blurted excitedly as he shook hands with Harry and then Sirius, who had set aside his metalwork. "You're in the Order, right?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "No, that's him," he said, nudging his godfather. "But someday I might be, hopefully."

"Sir Harry—has a nice ring to it," said Ron thoughtfully. "You seem like the heroic sort, I can just tell. Like you're going to do great things."

Harry blushed and looked away. Sirius smiled, "That's what I'm always telling him, but he never believes me!"

The four chatted for a while longer before the doors opened again and a familiar blue-haired woman entered, looking calm but content. "Hi, Tonks," greeted Hermione.

"Wotcher, Hermione! Actually, I'd come for you—we need to do some magic practice."

"Magic practice?" Ron echoed dumbly, looking from one to the other.

Tonks blinked at him. "Who's this?"

"Oh, this is my good friend Ron. Ron, this is Tonks. She's an Order knight helping me learn healing magic," Hermione said.

Now it was Ron's turn to be confused. "But...you're..."

"A woman? Well spotted." Tonks put her hands on her hips, looking unimpressed. "For your information, the Order holds no discrimination against blood status or gender. So long as you can hold your own in the qualification, you can be a knight. Don't think it's easy, though," she warned.

"Hardest thing I ever did," growled Moody as he clumped up to the table and set his flask down.

As Order knights continued to file in, Ron's eyes grew progressively wider. By the time Lord Dumbledore swept in, draped in magnificent robes of deep purple with glittering gold embroidery, he was speechless. Snape had slipped in behind Dumbledore and now silently took his seat on his lord's right side as the older man remained standing and spoke:

"My honored knights and esteemed guests, welcome to Grimmauld Castle."

Ron's family—consisting of his mother, father, sister and two twin brothers—shifted and murmured excitedly among themselves. They had spotted Hermione's wild hair from across the hall and immediately run over to crowd around her, pelting her with questions and greetings. From the shifty glint in Fred and George's eyes Hermione could tell they were already plotting how to make mischief; she desperately hoped it didn't involve Snape.

"Tonight, this place is a harbor of peace and joy," said Dumbledore, "especially because I have a rather thrilling announcement to make. We currently have two stable boys here who have applied for the highly honored and coveted position of squireship in the training program for a knighthood in the Order of the Phoenix."

He paused, smiled and twinkled.

"...and it gives me great pleasure to announce that both Harry James Potter and Draco Abraxas Malfoy will be our newest squires!"

Harry looked like he had been hit in the face with a club; Sirius laughed heartily and pounded him happily on the back as applause filled the room. Further down the table, Draco wore a very smug expression. Dumbledore raised his hands for silence once more.

"With that being said, let us celebrate our young heroes-in-training with a feast to remember!"

Two hours later Hermione stumbled to her bedchambers. She had drunk so much butterbeer she felt slightly ill, and the Weasley boys had taken up a competition to see who could belch the loudest. Seeing Snape's murderous expression at the end of the table the young woman had quickly excused herself and headed to sleep off the traumatic experience. She hoped to be nowhere nearby when the black-robed warrior finally cornered Fred and George.

As she pushed open the door Hermione felt it bump against something, which slid across the smooth floor. Puzzled, she shut the door behind her and looked over to investigate, only to find a small book bound in plain black leather. She hadn't taken any books out of the library earlier; it was odd that this would be in her room.

But she was nothing if not bold, so she picked it up and flipped through the pages. It wasn't a book—it was a diary...and an empty one at that.

"Well, fancy that," Hermione smiled to herself. "A free diary...seems almost too good to be true..." Flopping onto the bed, she summoned Dobby and requested writing material. Within moments she was supplied with a sharp quill and a full jar of ink. But what to write as the opening line of a blank journal...?

Hermione's slender hand hovered over the paper for a bit before she made up her mind and simply wrote: _My name is Hermione Granger._

Shock gripped her as the dark strokes of ink were absorbed into the parchment almost as soon as they touched it. She sat and stared at the newly blank space and was about to burst out of her room to show Ron what she had found when something moved on the page.

It was letters—words—and they were writing themselves.

 _Hello, Hermione Granger. My name is Tom Riddle. You seem to have found my diary._


End file.
